The Horror... The Horror: An Autobiography
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Available for the first time, The Horror... The Horror provides a look into the life and mind of author Rick Hautala. From his days as a child in Massachusetts, to his days in college at the University of Maine in Orono, to the early days of his writing career along with Stephen King's involvement, and ultimately to where his life and career stood in 2009, his autobiography is a compelling read to be enjoyed by friends and fans alike.
home. Of course, when I first started coming to NECon, I felt a bit out of it. You see, I labored under this impression that I honestly believe to this day. I don’t think…No, strike that. I know I would not have been published when I was — or maybe ever — if it hadn’t been for Steve King. So when I went to NECon, I felt like an intruder, an imposter, a fraud, a loser, a turd in the punchbowl…all those wonderful thoughts and emotions that still swirl just below the surface. Why I feel that way
WORKING. He worked tirelessly, eighty-hour weeks, and he expected — or made me feel as though he expected — me to do the same. That was easy when I was college. The war in Southeast Asia was crackling along, and I had a student deferment, and the last thing I wanted to do was lose that and end up drafted and sent to Vietnam. I had friends who that happened to. They didn’t come back the same. Some of them were better people, having seen the world, met interesting people, and killed them. Most of
Falmouth. I also had real crap jobs, like bank messenger, bakery manager for a grocery store (that lasted about six months), mason’s tender (flashback to my childhood), house painter, carpenter’s helper (banged my thumb silly), copy editor for a local press, dishwasher at a restaurant…all sorts of wonderful jobs that built my character. Yeah. All I wanted to do was write, and then — when Nightstone sold, like over a million copies, I was ready to write full-time forever. That didn’t last long
Chadbourne, Roman Ranieri, and Chris Golden. Holly and Mark and a few others came along too recently to have been at the Alamo, but they sure as hell were at the Battle of San Jacinto. (If you don’t get any of the historical references, then do a little reading in history, dummy.) To be sure, there were other friends on the ramparts as gunpowder smoke rolled in over the walls, but this was the handful of people I could see standing shoulder to shoulder with me on the walls. They were the ones I
but the natural tendency of my mind is toward the creepy…the spooky…the truly unknown. So for these and whatever reasons are buried in my subconscious, it’s primarily ghost stories for me. Chapter 24 “Crawlspaces” What I’m talking about (again) is childhood and the nostalgia for the past. Like I said at the start of this, I had a perfectly normal-to-all-appearances childhood…the usual ups and downs….the triumphs and tragedies (all of them minor in the greater scheme of things)…the